


It's Hard to Dance with the Devil on Your Back

by Starless_Void



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics), Under the Red Hood
Genre: A/B/O, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha！Tim, Angst, Beta!Alfred, M/M, Omega!Jason, alpha!bruce, alpha!dick, sad feels:(, this one is all feels, will update tags with each chapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:48:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22949593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starless_Void/pseuds/Starless_Void
Summary: All Jason ever wanted was a stable pack.Tim always had a soft spot for the second Robin.Was going to be porn, but now I think its going to be more plot-based.
Relationships: Tim Drake/Jason Todd
Comments: 34
Kudos: 201





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Re-worked the first part, upcoming chapters are most likely going to be from other perspectives. Not a fan of the style of writing I used in the first chapter, so I will most likely change it up to my usual style. Tell me what you think!

Jason Todd was born in Gotham city to Willis and Catherine Todd. He grew up much like any other child in Crime Alley, one parent working a less than legal job, and the other spent most of the time high off of the inexpensive drugs being sold just outside the front door. 

Jason Todd was seven when his father never came home after leaving to work a shady business deal as hired muscle for Two-Face. Leaving him to look after his drug addict mother alone.

Jason Todd was nine when he found his mother collapsed on the bathroom floor, needle in her arm, heroin half administered. He held her head on his lap, staring at her peaceful expression, barely recognizing her.

Jason Todd was twelve when he tried to steal the tires off the Batmobile. He had three of them stashed away, and was working on the fourth by the time Batman arrived. Same as the other adults in his life, Batman had immediately handed Jason off to someone else, in this case, a crazy old lady who ran a school for less fortunate boys, which turned out to be a school for thugs and criminals. 

Jason Todd was twelve when Batman asked him to become Robin, and live with him in the giant castle that he called a house on one of the big hills just outside the city limits. He was given a second chance, a new family that actually cared for him. Alfred was like the grandfather he never had, and Bruce actually gave him the time of day. When Bruce had told him about Dick, he foolishly let himself dream that he would have a big brother.

Jason Todd was thirteen when he was officially given the mantle of Robin by Dick Grayson, the previous Robin. Considering Dicks behavior towards him in the past, the two spent a night patrolling together, Dick giving him tips and teaching him some new moves. 

Jason Todd was fourteen when he presented as a Beta, following the rescue of Superman, Wonder Woman and Batman at the fortress of solitude. His life was turning around, and for the first time, he really felt like he had a future.

Jason Todd was fifteen when he died. Unwanted by his own mother, beaten by a maniac with a crowbar and blown up. Neither of those things did him in, however. As he lay in the rubble of some dilapidated warehouse in Ethiopia, he allowed himself to call out to the only person he ever thought loved him, only to choke on the smoke from the burning chemicals and rotting wood, eyesight going dark, the last sound he heard were his mothers agonized howls as she burned to death alongside him. 

Jason remained fifteen for two years before he woke up six feet underground. He doesn’t remember breaking four of his fingers when he shattered his decorative coffin, nor does he remember clawing through the dense, cold earth, breath and dirt stuck in his lungs and fingernails torn off. He has no memory of walking the streets of Gotham in his funeral clothes, of taking down three police officers who tried to take him to the hospital. He cannot recall the seven months he spent in Arkham Asylum, nor the day when Batman walked right past his cell, eyes straight ahead and focused on some other inmates attempting an escape. Had he looked in cell sixteen, he may not have even recognized the numb and expressionless face of his deceased adopted son.

Jason Todd was a week shy of sixteen when Talia Al Ghul got wind of the John Doe found wandering the streets that managed to take down three GCPD officers while in a sleep-like trance without breaking a sweat. 

Jason Todd turned sixteen the day Talia Al Ghul pushed him into one of the Lazarus Pits, and for the first time in three years, Jason wakes up. Hours after his secondary resurrection, Jason collapses suddenly, fever lighting up his body while he writhes on the ground, experiencing his first heat as an Omega.

Jason Todd was sixteen when spent his first heat curled up on the stone floor in some remote location the Himalayan Alps, desperately begging for Bruce, Alfred, Dick or even Barbara, the nice Alpha that he worked with on more than one occasion. He wanted- needed- his pack, letting out keens and whines that echoed unanswered through the maze of stone walls where Talia dropped him off. She left him to sweat it out alone, claiming the experience will strengthen him. 

Jason Todd didn’t want to be strong. He wanted to be loved. Spending a week crying out for people who didn’t even know he was alive changed his perspective on that. He died calling out for a man who never showed. Maybe he was never meant to be loved, maybe he was only meant to be strong.

Two weeks later, Jason meets Ducra and the All Caste, who agree to train him. Ducra cared for him, but in a manner unlike anyone before. She was stern, like Bruce, focused and controlled in her affections, like Alfred, and was both cruel and nurturing like Dick. She was compassionate, yet not overly so, not letting him get away with anything. She and the other All Caste members were not mortal, and therefore did not have any second genders like humans. They had medicine for him to suppress his heats, so he was able to focus fully on his training. 

He tried not to get attached, knows what will happen if he lets someone in. He knows she is going to either betray him or let him down, but there is still a stupid, naïve part of him that wants to trust. Wants to have someone, anyone, care for him without having to worry about their motivations. He wants a pack, his Omega instincts fighting through the suppressants. 

He lets her in, just a little bit. Not full pack, not what he really wanted. But he lets her in enough to guide him through his personal and physical struggles, and she teaches him how to deal with his emotions and his flaws, without letting her into his head.

The world doesn’t stop spinning, the ground doesn’t open up and swallow him down, and Jason steels himself for the other shoe to drop. 

It never did. 

Jason Todd was eighteen when he passes the tests Ducra set up for him, and was officially the first human to do so. In the face of evil, he can call upon the all blades to smite the creatures that seek the downfall of mankind. 

It wasn’t until the day of the tests, though, that he learned the all blades could only damage creatures like the Untitled or beings from another plane. Ducra laughed at his slightly crestfallen expression, “The All Blades are for the protection of the mortal races, and thus can only damage immortal beings.” She stated, her cane echoing through the caves as they walked. 

For the first time since Jason was twelve, he was on his own. Unlike then, Ducra and Talia both have assured him that he is welcome to stay with them if he ever needs a place to stay. Jason can never fully trust Talia, knowing that she has many ulterior motives, and to stay with the All Caste means leading a life not unlike that of a monk, so Jason politely refused their offers, choosing instead to make his own way.

Before he made his way back to Gotham, Jason stopped by the outpost Talia told him about, thanking her for everything. 

Talia thanked Jason for stopping by, giving him a generous amount of money to fund his journey, along with suppressants to stave off his Omega instincts in the outside world, the ones from the All Caste unable to work in the presence of other humans. Before he left, Talia handed him a folder wordlessly, her face grim. As Jason opened his mouth to ask, she walked away, leaving Jason to figure it out on his own.

Jason Todd was eighteen when he learned that the Joker was still alive, and had broken out of Arkham two times since he killed Jason. No medicine in the world could have prevented Jason from this news, leaving a gaping hole where he still held onto the hope of returning to his pack. 

Jason Todd was nineteen when he learned that there was a new Robin working with Batman, an Alpha named Tim. Just like Dick. Because everyone knows what happens when you bring a Beta into the fray. If he had his current status as an Omega when he presented at the manor, Bruce probably would have forbidden him to go out anyway, todays society still stuck in the archaic way of thinking that Omegas are too weak to be anything other than glorified trophy wives, or broodmares. 

The thought of attending any of the awful galas that Bruce hosted throughout his time as Robin in the scraps of translucent cloth that passed for Omega fashion sickened him. Society would see him as nothing more than property, used to gain influence or carry on the family name.

Jason Todd was twenty when he stumbled upon the new Robin, Tim, being held hostage by Two-Face. He watched as the kid took out nearly all thirty of the men holding him before one of them got in a lucky shot with a tranquilizer dart, dropping the kid to his knees. 

As Jason watched the remaining three henchmen close in on Robin, he was hit with a sudden burst of green rage, and when the sickening color receded from his vision, Two-Face was bloody and struggling to breathe at his feet, and the three thugs were still on the floor next to him. 

Robin fought to stay awake, knuckles white on the bo staff as he tried to keep himself from collapsing fully. Jason was thankful for his helmet, just for the fact that the barely conscious teen wouldn’t be able to see the way his face softened, eyes misting over with tears at seeing with his own eyes that Bruce found a better partner. Jason hated the tender way his hands found the dart on Robins neck, hated the slow and careful way he extracted the object. 

What he hated the most, however, was his absolute inability to hate the teen in front of him. This kid replaced him. He wore the same colors as he did, but he did it better. His movements were graceful, not as fluent as Dick, but close. He was calculating, thinking through every movement before he struck. He was everything Jason wasn’t, and as much as he wanted to, Jason just couldn’t hate him.

Jason Todd was twenty when he pressed the emergency help button in Robin’s suit, and watched from the roof of an adjacent building as Batman swooped in to rescue his new partner. Jason hated the tears that slid down his cheeks as Batman carefully scooped up the now unconscious boy wonder in his arms and carried him to the Batmobile. Jason cursed the broken sob he let out when Nightwing materialized out of the shadows and rushed to Batman’s side to check on Robin. 

Jason Todd was twenty when he captured the Joker and beat him nearly to death with a crowbar while waiting for Batman to show up and give him the answers he so desperately needed. 

Jason Todd was twenty when Batman told him point blank that Jason wasn’t worth killing the Joker over, and then attacked him to protect the monster that killed his son. The man who rescued him from a life on the streets and gave him a new purpose, something to finally live for, the man who was supposed to be his father. Jason watched as he nearly died saving the scum that would now live another day, and continue killing innocent people, while leaving him once again to rot in the desecrated ruins of some worthless building.

Jason Todd was twenty when he called out to the man who said he would always be there for him no matter what for the second time, his heart caving in when there is no response. Nothing had changed. The acrid stench of burning rubber scalded his lungs, but the sensation was nothing compared to the anguish of his father choosing the Joker, the man who killed woman and children for fun, over his own son. 

Jason Todd was twenty when Tim Drake spent hours digging through the rubble, calling out his name in a blind panic. Jason passed out long ago, part of him hoping that he dies, for good this time. 

Death would be much better than the utter rejection of his own pack


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story begins...
> 
> I am literally in the middle of moving right now so updates will be slow but I am working on it!

The stench of soot and rubber assaults Tim’s nose, even through the gas mask he strapped on when he got to the scene. His gloves are torn and nearly useless after his frantic attempts at digging through the rubble. 

“Jason! Jason!” He calls out into the warm Gotham night, his only answer a hollow silence broken by bits of falling debris. 

Refusing to give up, Tim continues his search, unable to submit to the fact that Jason might already-

There is a groan from a couple yards away, and Tim is there in a flash, clearing away the smaller bits of concrete and brick, uncovering a little pocket of space underneath a very large portion of what seems to have been a brick wall. 

Tim scrambles for his utility belt, shining a small flashlight onto Jason’s face, and the man gives another subdued groan, pupils dilating against the light. No head injury then, thank God for small mercies. 

Tim takes stock of the surrounding rubble, finding what he deems to be the most stable spot before he grips the edge of the wall and puts all his strength into pushing it up. Small pieces of rock and a cloud of dust are the thanks for his effort, but desperation and adrenalin fuel him, and he manages to shift the hulking mass a whole five inches. 

Tim grips his knees, breath coming in pants through his mask, before stumbling to the opening where he found Jason. The man is still lying in the rubble, his prone figure more visible now that Tim opened the way a bit. 

That is when Tim actually takes in the fact that Jason isn’t wearing a mask. His signature red helmet is nowhere to be seen, and Tim feels a stab of guilt at the thick covering of ash and dust on his naked face, shucking off his mask before he has the chance to think, cleaning off Jason’s face with the cleanest parts of his hands, and carefully attaching the breathing apparatus to his nose and mouth. 

Jason’s eyelids flutter at the touch, and Tim watches as Jason takes deeper breaths, lifting the mask when needed to cough up the dust and soot that got into his lungs. 

With more oxygen flowing to his brain, Jason becomes more cognizant, and starts to panic. Tim leaps out of reach as a shiny kris flashes in Jason’s hand, taking a swipe at him. 

“Woah, Jason! It’s Tim. I’m here to help, just stay calm and I will clear out some more space to-” He doesn’t get to finish his sentence before Jason moves again, weapon forgotten as he reaches his arm out to scratch uselessly at the ground.

“No, no, no, not again…” Jason whimpers, and Tim can sense the sheer panic rolling off him in waves. “GET ME OUT! HELP!” Tim is frozen at the terror in Jason’s voice as the man heaves a sob, his hand scratching at the unforgiving concrete in a feeble attempt to pull himself out. 

Taking careful steps towards him, Tim puts his hands out to show that he means no harm, and while Jason doesn’t stop flailing, he does follow Tim with his eyes, and Tim feels a hollow cavity in his chest at the raw emotions Jason wears on his face. 

Tim looks away, and finds a sizable chunk of rock, getting a good hold on it and pulling with all his might. The rock shudders and scrapes but ultimately, Tim dislodges it, widening the hole for Jason. Understanding dawns in his eyes and as Tim grabs another piece of debris, Jason helps push it out, and soon enough the man is able to crawl through the hole and free himself. 

His knees hit the ground, and he rips the mask off before retching, and Tim staggers to a knee while trying to keep his breathing shallow, as not to fill his lungs with dust. He can hear the sirens in the distance, thankful for once for the utter lack of law enforcement in this area, if they came any sooner, they would have found Jason and who knows what would have happened to him.

Jason’s coughing and choking subside and Tim ducks himself under one of Jason’s arms, hooking one hand around his waist to heave the larger man to his unsteady feet. “We gotta go, Jason. My car is right down the street, can you walk?” Jason doesn’t answer, but he shuffles his feet in an attempt and Tim is there to catch him when he stumbles. 

They manage to duck into the alley where Tim stashed his car just as a big, red firetruck rounds the corner, leading an army of firefighters who immediately start hosing down the site. 

Jason all but collapses into the passenger seat, curling up on himself without a word. Tim takes off his domino as he slides behind the wheel and manages to steer them to his fourth favorite safe house. 

Yes, he has all of them ranked, sue him.

Tim bought the whole building as part of the Drake Industries new initiative alongside Wayne Industries for providing affordable and clean housing throughout all of Gotham. Luckily, this means that while he had the building repaired in preparation to house all the families, he also managed to install some cool things himself, like the secret, private elevator built into the huge support beam in the center of the parking garage beneath the building. Plus, because the building was bought by Drake Industries, Bruce doesn’t know about this loft. 

As he scans his finger on the little sensor, the doors open up, revealing the modest compartment. Jason, who is still mostly out of it, begins to panic again when Tim tries to maneuver them into it, hand once again on his hip.

“No, stop, I won’t.” He chants, and Tim remembers a detail from the file Bruce made when he figured out Jason was the Red Hood. From looking at the grave he was buried in, Bruce first suspected that someone dug up his body for whatever reason. When he looked at the casket, however, he found flakes of blood and pieces of fingernail embedded in the wood. He deduced that Jason must have woken up after being dead for two years, and then he dug himself out of his grave. Jason’s breathing picks up and Tim steers them away from the tiny elevator, and they slump back into the car, parked in a small reserved space in the far corner, away from prying eyes. 

Tim takes a deep breath, trying to figure out how he is going to get Jason anywhere. All his safehouses have small, hidden entrances, for safety reasons. Plus, it deters Dick from just casually walking in when he is bored. Well, it was supposed to, in theory. Now the vigilante just uses Tim’s windows as his own personal front door.

Tim could call Kon to come carry Jason to the seventh floor windows and let him in, or better yet, just have Bart zip him up the stairs so fast that nobody sees them. He risks a look at Jason, once again curled up in the passenger seat, and starts at the vacant, empty look in his turquoise eyes, and scraps those plans. Bringing metas into Gotham would just draw Batman’s attention anyway. 

So, Tim just needs to get Jason to a big, open place with lots of privacy. He almost laughs to himself, he’s no Bruce Wayne. It’s not like he has-

Oh.

Tim actually lets out a snort at his own scatterbrained thoughts. The fact that he literally owns a giant manor right next to Bruce literally slipped his mind. It’s the perfect place to hide, Bruce would never think that Jason would be at the Drake estate, given that he did attack Tim on more than one occasion. 

Jokes on him, it’s going to take more than a couple of murder attempts to erase Tim’s hero worship for the second Robin. 

Before he leaves, Tim changes into civilian clothing, laying a lightweight blanket over Jason, who subconsciously grasps the soft material and burrows into it, eyes nearly focusing before he goes back to the empty stare.

As he peels out of the parking garage, he sends an alert to the cleaning staff that he will be returning to the manor and that he would like them to take a couple months of paid vacation time. When his parents died, Tim kept all the staff on payroll to keep the manor looking nice, he had a team of gardeners, cleaners, and other such people to tend to the unused home. He practically grew up with all the workers, and since he lives primarily out of Titans Tower or his loft downtown near his day job, so he gave full permission to their families to use the grounds whenever they would like, just so long as they stayed out of the west wing, where the master bedrooms, library and various studies were. 

He stopped in every once in a while, to check up on them and make sure everything is in order and, on one memorable visit, was delighted to see the children of a few of the gardeners having a blast by the Olympic sized pool in the backyard. 

As he sits at a red light, the monitor on his dash flashes and displays a message from the staff, thanking him for giving them the summer off, and oh yeah. Tim feels a little more foolish for nearly forgetting that its early June, and he essentially just gave his workers the summer off to spend with their families. 

It all works out, they are lovely people and Tim is happy to help them in any way he can, and he admires the neatly trimmed bushes that line the long and curving driveway that leads to his childhood home. 

As they pull up to the front steps, the big doors swing outward, and one of the maids leads her three children out, each one sporting a different color inflatable pool tube around their waists. Tim cracks a smile at the comical sight, and gets out of his car to speak with them.

The maid, Tina, is already apologizing as he approaches. “I am so sorry Mr. Drake, we were just leaving.” Tim shakes his head and tells her not to worry. “I am sorry to kick you out so suddenly! I really wouldn’t ask this of you were it not extremely important.” His voice is even, as he bids them a good evening, waving at the kids as they all climb into a minivan, his smile genuine when the kids shout their goodbyes out the window as they drive off. 

As soon as they are out of sight, Tim slowly approaches his car, movements calm and placating as he opens the passenger door, hoisting Jason up for the third and hopefully final time that evening, leading him inside the house and steering him towards the large guestroom on the first floor of the west wing. 

After twenty minutes of shuffling feet and grunts of exertion, he gently lays Jason down on the king bed, and gives into his own exhaustion, flopping down next to him. 

Truth be told, he isn’t sure what to do next. His main concern over the last three hours was getting Jason somewhere safe and away from Bruce. Just thinking about Bruce makes Tim angry, the way he handled the situation was beyond childish, and just downright mean. Tim is going to make the man’s life a living hell, he thinks, making a mental note to purchase some itching powder to put in his suit. Not a lot, just enough to make the man very uncomfortable. 

Tim lets out a small groan, pulling himself back up to a sitting position and looking at Jason, who already seems to be doing better, his eyes now focused on Tim. He wouldn’t let go of the small blanket that Tim gave him in the car, and is staring at him with the cloth bunched up in his tight grip. 

When Jason opens his mouth to speak, nothing comes out and he instead descends into another coughing fit. Tim is on his feet and sprinting down the hall towards the nearest kitchen to get some water before he even registers that he left the bed. 

There is not much in the kitchen, only non-perishables like canned food and bottles of water, so Tim swipes an armful of water bottles out of the fridge and races back to Jason, opening the lid for him and holding it up to his lips from where he moved himself to lay against the plush pillows. 

Jason snatches the water out of his hands and glares at Tim in annoyance, and Tim is aware that he may be babying the older man a bit, but he thinks he is entitled to a bit of babying given that he basically just relived his own death. Tim flushes a bit and looks down, opening his own water and taking a small sip.

Tim’s eyes slip back to Jason after a moment. There is something a little off about him, little ways of how he moves his hands, he keeps tapping the side of his water bottle with his finger, and his eyes are darting around the room even as he drinks. He also looks… not quite soft, yet, not as hard as Tim pictured him to be. He figured Jason would be different after his dip in the Lazarus Pit, but some small part of Tim can’t help but feel like there is something slightly off.

His own water bottle forgotten, Tim watches as Jason chugs all of his water and sets the empty plastic on the bedside table. Jason notices him staring and scowls. “Why?” He asks, and Tim can see him flinch at his own raw voice. 

Tim blinks. That is a loaded question. “Why wouldn’t I?” He states, getting up and rummaging through the dresser, finding a couple outfits neatly tucked in the drawers, tags still attached. Jason has his eyes narrowed, watching Tim’s every move.

Jason clears his voice, “You should have left me. Bruce doesn’t want me, there is no reason to bring me back to him, he isn’t going to reward you for being a good little soldier,” Jason’s voice cracks and he wipes at his irritated eyes with a big sniff, and Tim wants nothing more than to go to him and hug him, and then never let go. 

Assuming that any physical contact will be interpreted as an attack right now, Tim opts for sitting on the edge of the bed, placing the clothes between them, like a flimsy barrier. Tim notices the slight relaxation in Jason’s shoulders at the gesture.

“I didn’t do this for Bruce.” He says simply. Jason’s nostrils flare, and shock writes itself across his face. Tim holds his gaze as he slowly lifts his own arm and sniffs. Well, Tim wouldn’t consider himself to smell good, but Jason has got to smell worse so why did he act like Tim just ripped one?

Jason huffs, arms crossing his chest, which looks quite plush actually- nope. Not going there. Tim blinks to get back to the moment at hand. “The little swim in the pit left me with better senses, so I can hear and smell things better than I could as a human. People’s heart rate goes up slightly when they lie, and they give off a sour smell.” Jason explains, averting his gaze. 

Tim’s eyes widen at the new information. His mouth unfortunately chooses to work faster than his brain and he asks, “What do I smell like?” right to the poor guys face, like he expects the answer won’t be a nasty case of BO and burnt rubber. Tim immediately cringes at his own lack of social graces, blaming his lack of sleep for his slip up. “I am so sorry, I didn’t mean- you don’t have to answer that.” He flounders lamely, and can feel his traitorous face heat up in embarrassment. 

Jason levels him with a scathing look, and just narrows his eyes at Tim’s apology. Feeling like this is a good time to take a break, Tim practically leaps out of the bed, gesturing to the clothes he laid out earlier as he goes. “These are just some extra clothes that I keep in the house in case something like this happens. Not that this kind of thing has ever happened before, or to say that I thought this would happen-” He cuts himself off again, backing away to the door in what he hopes to be a placating manner. 

Jason huffs, side eyeing the items but not yet moving. Tim realizes he was just standing there, staring at him and he feels the damn blush spreading down his neck now. “Uh, goodnight! If you need anything, I will be a couple doors down, in my old room. Its, uh, the one that says ‘Tim’ on it.” He finishes lamely.

To top off the wonderful exchange, Tim throws up a peace sign in lieu of a nod or wave and scrambles out the door, letting the sturdy oak door close as quickly and quietly as he can. 

Running a hand through his hair, Tim winces at the flurry of dust suddenly encompassing his face and trudges to the bathroom connected to his room to change out of his suit and take a thorough shower. 

Once the steam fogs up the giant mirror in the room entirely, and Tim is fairly certain that his body is now a couple of degrees warmer than is probably healthy, he calls it a night. He barely musters up the energy to swipe a pair of sweatpants out of his drawer before he collapses into his bed, not even getting under the covers, just pulling one side over him and passing out. 

Tomorrow he will deal with the fallout of basically going AWOL in the middle of a routine patrol and then trying to hide his legally dead, technically brother, PTSD addled childhood hero from the greatest detective in the world. 

Good thing those are Tomorrow-Tim problems because Current-Tim is checking the fuck out.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment with thoughts and suggestions! They keep me motivated and make my day!


End file.
